At Center of Any Impeachment Inquiry, Rep. Hyde, a Man of the Old School

By LIZETTE ALVAREZ

Published: April 11, 1998

ADDISON, Ill., April 6—
When he is back home in his district, just outside Chicago, sipping a glass of iced tea at the Sun Mist Restaurant, Representative Henry J. Hyde never mentions President Clinton's troubles. Nor does he ever say that he is Congress's point man in a possible impeachment inquiry.

But Mr. Hyde, the 73-year-old chairman of the House Judiciary Committee, is well aware of the pitfalls ahead:

His fellow conservatives will gun for impeachment, or at least for a full airing of accusations against the President. Democrats will cry witch hunt. The scandal-weary public will recoil. And in the end, the spectacle of rancorous impeachment hearings in an election year could slice right into the slight Republican majority in the House.

''Our task,'' said Mr. Hyde in a recent breakfast interview in the House members' dining room, describing the House's role in the inquiry, ''is to keep this whole situation, this maelstrom, in perspective, and to understand that the American people are the ultimate jury.''

If anyone can do that, even some of the most liberal Democrats agree, it is Henry Hyde.

Viewed as a political elder in the House, Mr. Hyde is a lawmaker from another era, keen on tradition and respectful of the institution he was elected to 24 years ago. He is the kind of man who apologizes for saying ''damn'' and who slips words like ''heretofore'' into a sentence without sounding anachronistic. He also has a gift for oratory and humor that he uses on unsuspecting opponents on the House floor.

But what colleagues also see in him is a sense of fairness, an attribute both sides are banking on, for different reasons; Republicans to bolster their public image and Democrats to protect Mr. Clinton.

It is a characteristic the public will look for as well. For the prevailing sentiment about the ''whole mess,'' even in Mr. Hyde's small-town Republican bastion, where there is little fondness for the President, appears to be plainly practical -- leave well enough alone.

''If you're going to impeach him, it should be for cheating on our country, not cheating on his wife,'' said Janice Biallas, 51, a waitress at the Sun Mist who lives in Bensenville.

''It's gone too far,'' said James Dowler, a George Bush man who voted for Bob Dole in 1996, stopping to chat up the road. ''Congress should just leave it alone. It's really going to be a mess, a dirty fight.''

There is no doubt that Mr. Hyde, a former Navy man who grew up poor in Chicago, is a committed Republican partisan with a strong moral streak. For two decades he has been the House's unrivaled champion of the anti-abortion wing, likening abortion to murder and slavery. He is still best known for his 1976 ''Hyde Amendment,'' which restricts the use of Federal money for abortions.

Most of the time he marches in lock step with the party and its leaders. During the Iran-contra hearings, he was one of Congress's most eloquent defenders of President Ronald Reagan and Col. Oliver L. North. Like most other Republicans, he safeguards the Defense Department, says that allowing illegal immigrants access to public schools is bad policy and is fiscally conservative.

Yet, Mr. Hyde, a child of the Depression, manages to blend principle with pragmatism, party loyalty with independent thinking. While he zealously opposes abortion, for example, he has also voted for programs to help children once they are born, including the Family Leave Act and aid for poor women and children.

But if he disagrees with his colleagues on an issue -- as he did with the Republican push for term limits, which he called the ''dumbing down of democracy,'' and with overturning the ban on assault weapons -- Mr. Hyde has no qualms about parting company with his party colleagues.

Neither is he reluctant to help tug the party back toward the center, even on abortion. Last year, when the Republican National Committee was pondering whether to cut off financial help to candidates who support abortion rights, Mr. Hyde was summoned to California to urge prudence and common sense. The party's ''paper-thin'' majority, he reminded the group, should not be squandered by a policy of exclusion.

''No one can make the case that Henry Hyde is a lackey for the Republican leadership,'' said Ed Gillespie, a Republican strategist and former press secretary for the House majority leader, Representative Dick Armey of Texas.

Democrats respect that independence, to the point of actually coming to his defense.

Representative David R. Obey of Wisconsin, the ranking Democrat on the Appropriations Committee and a liberal, recalled watching Mr. Hyde on a television monitor near a shoeshine stand on the Hill one afternoon in 1995 as Mr. Hyde delivered a speech against term limits. A newly elected conservative firebrand getting his shoes buffed muttered, ''Sit down, you silly old man.''

''I said to that jerk, I said, 'Look fellow, with all due respect, Henry Hyde has demonstrated that he belongs here,' '' Mr. Obey said. '' 'With all due respect, the jury is still out on you.' Henry Hyde can be opinionated and excessive in his rhetoric -- welcome to the club. But he does, at least, make an effort to deal squarely with his opponents. He is seen as a person that people can work with.''

Representative Barney Frank, the Massachusetts liberal and second-ranking Democrat on the Judiciary Committee, agreed. The chairman, he said, is ''willing to listen.''

Mr. Hyde often butts heads with women in Congress, many of whom view him as the single greatest threat to the abortion rights movement.